All the Ways that Lead to Somewhere
by high improbability
Summary: After Phoenix and Thalassa's revelation about Apollo and Trucy goes awry, Nahyuta is left to deal with Apollo in the aftermath. He learns a few things along the way.


Nahyuta doesn't see Apollo mourn Dhurke.

In the wake of that fateful trial, his recently rediscovered brother had taken case after case, working seemingly nonstop. Nahyuta knows that Datz and Ahlbi make sure he's eating and sleeping, and there's always a fresh bunch of nahmanda flowers by the altar, but _work_ seems to be the only other thing on Apollo's itinerary.

"It's a coping mechanism, I think," is Detective Skye's response when Nahyuta asks her about it. "He really gets like that. You should have seen him last year…"

She doesn't elaborate on what _last year_ means, and he doesn't press her. Instead, when he's got spare time, he turns to foreign records and articles, calls his foreign contacts, looks up everything he can about _last year_. It's not difficult to get a hold of what Apollo was up to in recent months, considering it had been a major international incident. Soon, he's read about the large clamor surrounding State vs. Starbuck and State vs. Woods. Some of the names are familiar – of the central figures, he recognizes Athena Cykes, that enigmatic young girl who'd faced off against him in that ridiculous trial, and Simon Blackquill, the prosecutor who'd assisted her. He stares at the newspaper photographs showing Apollo, grim and silent, in a jacket that Nahyuta doesn't recognize and an eyepatch slung over his face. In that get-up, he realizes, grimacing, Dhurke is written all over him.

He doesn't follow that train of thought for too long. The wound is too raw, too fresh, and Nahyuta doesn't know how to mourn him, either. "I had no idea about any of this," he says instead, almost petulant, waving the tablet around.

Detective Skye is sharp, and knows what he's talking about near-instantly. "No," she replies, adjusting her glasses. "He's not the type to talk about it." She looks almost sad about it. Nahyuta knows she's protective of Apollo in her own way, for reasons he's sure he'll have to learn more about himself.

They're an odd bunch, these Wright Anything Agency attorneys, a messy extended family built around Phoenix Wright and his kind, knowing smile and strengthened in the holy fires of the court. Apollo loves them, that much is certain; Nahyuta sees it in the video calls Apollo has sometimes, or in the photographs he frames and leaves around the office – him and the Wrights, him flanked by Detective Skye and a tanned blonde man Nahyuta doesn't recognize, him sitting with Ms. Cykes and Mr. Wright on a worn couch, him with his arm around the shoulders of an astronaut Nahyuta only knows through news articles and obituaries. Some of the photographs don't even have him in it – there's one of Mr. Wright, Ms. Fey, and Mr. Edgeworth at a magic show, one of Ms. Cykes and a kind-looking teenager who looks to be her friend, one of Ms. Wright and a slight girl who greatly resembles Ms. Fey.

The thought makes him itch, that Apollo has built all this in America when the odds were so stacked against him – a life filled with love and laughter, of characters that Nahyuta doesn't know but clearly matter greatly to his brother. And yet Apollo's left it all behind, for Khura'in.

For Dhurke. For Nahyuta.

"You don't have to be sentimental about it," Rayfa declares when he mentions it. They're having tea in their mother's study as Nahyuta pores over yet another murder case and Rayfa is complaining about having to study the history of the government of Zheng Fa. Apollo is back in America for a brief emergency visit, as he had put it, and Nahyuta finds himself cherishing these moments alone with his sister. It's heartwrenching and domestic even as she works through her discomfort regarding the situation, and sometimes, he lets himself think of _what if_ s and _what could have been_ s, if Amara's quarters hadn't gone up in flames by Ga'ran's gloved hand. Maybe this would have been a normal occurrence, maybe their mother's eyes would light up every time Dhurke would return home, laughter booming, maybe Rayfa wouldn't have to call him _Braid Head_ instead of _brother_ because she stumbles over the latter word.

But then he might not have met Apollo.

He blinks at her. Rayfa sighs loudly, as if disappointed in his lack of response. He makes a mental note to work on her manners. "Khura'in is part of Horn Head's history, too," she says with exaggerated patience. "You didn't force him to stay. He had a personal stake in the events of this country, which he intends to follow up on."

But Nahyuta had taken advantage of the emotional turmoil in the wake of Dhurke's death, hadn't he – perhaps Apollo would not have been so inclined to accept the law office just yet had the trial not been so fresh and painful. Perhaps he would have gone home to America and quietly readjusted to his world shifting on its axis yet again, spent enough time with those who loved him, and returned to Khura'in to take over the law office in time.

Rayfa frowns at him, before her face softens. "You're doing good work here, the two of you," she says. "Don't doubt that."

He regards her. She's grown up much too fast and there's still some of Ga'ran in the raise of her eyebrows and the curl of her lip, but he's beginning to see their father's steely resolve in her gaze and the gentle set of their mother's shoulders in her posture. She'll be a good queen someday, but until then, she's his baby sister. "Thank you, Your Benevolence," he says with deliberate grandeur, his lip curling.

She makes a face at the name. They've still got a way to go, but this will do for now.

* * *

Nahyuta drops by the law office later that day, intending to drop off the files he had gone through earlier, and is surprised to find the light on. "Apollo?" he calls, knocking on the door. His brother wasn't due back in Khura'in until tomorrow, but it's him who opens the door, still dressed in travel-rumpled clothes, his gaze stormy.

"Nahyuta," Apollo says, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. "Come on in. I guess those are case files you're holding, huh…"

He steps into the building. Nothing's changed since his last visit three days ago, except for Apollo's suitcase in the foyer and his coat on the rack. He supposes Apollo had arrived maybe an hour ago, meaning he would have had to have flown out early in the morning… "Did you fly back early because you have to meet a client?" he asks carefully, sitting down on the sofa and setting the envelope on the coffee table. Apollo has proven himself to be quite magnetic, and their citizens flock to him with no hesitation. The apartment is bustling on a normal day.

"No, nothing like that. I just – I had to come back early," Apollo admits, his voice hoarse. Nahyuta wonders if he's been crying.

"If you must take time off, Apollo, no one would fault you for it," says Nahyuta. "You were supposed to enjoy your visit to America to the fullest."

Apollo lets out a sardonic laugh. "Yeah, well. I don't think I'll be enjoying America so fully for a while."

Nahyuta spares a quick glance around the apartment. The photographs are still up. Apollo changes them sometimes, and the one on the coffee table today looks to be at least two years old – Apollo, Trucy Wright, and a woman Nahyuta vaguely recognizes as a famous singer. It's autographed, and the thought of Apollo asking for a celebrity for their autograph is mildly ridiculous. "Did something happen at home?"

His brother sighs. "Yes. No. Well…" He trails off, looking away.

Nahyuta inhales, steeling himself. "If you would like to talk about something, I am willing to lend an ear," he offers, and winces inwardly. It's the first time he's ever offered something of the sort, and his words ring awkward even to his own ears.

Apollo looks stunned. "Nah, I'm sure you've got a lot on your plate. It's nothing."

So Nahyuta retreats to familiar territory. "How are we to reform the legal system if you are down in the dumps? Apollo, you are my brother in all but blood, and I will stand by you should you need it."

"That's the thing," he thinks he hears Apollo mumble, but he knows his brother is turning his words over in his head. Finally, he asks, "Remember when we were growing up, and I didn't know anything about my parents?"

And Nahyuta does, of course. Dhurke would regale them with stories of Amara, of her gentle beauty and quick wit, but he'd always had sparingly little to offer Apollo regarding his parents. Dhurke had known his parents' names – Jove and Doris Justice, but hardly anything else. _Your father was a wandering musician, the most skilled guitarist I ever met, and your mother had the loveliest voice I ever heard_ was all Apollo had to cling to growing up; everything else had gone up in flames.

But time has passed, and now Apollo knows more about his father's death than any twenty-four-year-old should. "What about them?" Nahyuta asks softly.

"Mr. Wright called me back to the States," Apollo murmurs. "He said he needed to tell me something important."

Nahyuta is silent. For all Apollo is perceptive, he's painfully easy to read, and the anxious set of his shoulders and the twiddling of his fingers tell him everything he needs to know.

Finally, Apollo speaks. "My mother is alive."

Now. This is news.

His brother has buried his head in his hands. "My mother is alive, and Mr. Wright knew. He'd known almost since he'd met her. Two whole years!" His voice has risen in pitch since he'd started talking, and Nahyuta can hear his throat straining.

"That's not all," Apollo continues, words seemingly spilling out of him now that the dam has burst. "I have a younger sister. This whole time. My _family_ …!"

Nahyuta tentatively places a hand on Apollo's back – gentle, between his scapulae, not unlike what Dhurke used to do when encouraging them. "Did you meet them?"

Apollo's head reappears from his hands. His eyes are dry, but his voice is cracking. "That's the kicker, Nahyuta. They've been right under my nose this whole time." He reaches for the framed photograph on the coffee table, the one with Ms. Wright. She's smiling brightly next to Apollo, and suddenly, Nahyuta sees the similarities in face shape, the jawline, the curve of their noses. "Thalassa Gramarye and Trucy Wright. My mother and half-sister."

"Mr. Wright's daughter," says Nahyuta dumbly, understanding dawning. He remembers the teenage girl, all bubbly charm and passionate fire. "Your half-sister."

"Yeah. Of all the little girls in the world, my mentor managed to adopt my own little sister. I've defended her in court, and I had no idea. I've _cross-examined my own mother in court_ , and Mr. Wright never even thought to _mention_ …! I could have _died_ , last year, not knowing she was right in front of me…" Apollo's furious expression returns for a split second, before it's replaced with overwhelming tiredness. "I'm sorry, Nahyuta. It's a lot. I'll be fine tomorrow." The words are familiar. Apollo throws _I'm fine_ around like wind, and powers through cases with a big grin on his face, but Nahyuta has never heard it sound so hollow.

(There's a history to those words, that much he can infer. Perhaps Detective Skye would know. He'll have to ask her about the case with Apollo's mother, too, when she is next in Khura'in. It stuns him, how much he does not know about the man he calls his brother.)

"I spent so many years in the foster system," Apollo starts again, weary. "Wondering why no family would keep me, or why Dhurke left me to begin with, or if my mother knew I was alive or not. All that time, I wondered if I even deserved a family. Clay, he – he got it, but he's dead, and now..."

Watching Apollo, Nahyuta understands the curdling feeling in his gut at the story. What a pleasure it would have been, to have Amara and Rayfa out of harm's way for all those years, to spend time with them as a son and brother, and to see Apollo denied that privilege…

"I would have given anything to have spent time with my sister and mother in that way," Nahyuta says matter-of-factly, because it's the truth. He waits for Apollo to nod before continuing. "Nevertheless, Mr. Wright does not seem like the type of person who would keep a secret like this out of malice. I am sure he attempted to explain his reasons."

Apollo huffs. "He didn't feel like it was his secret to keep. My mother, she… you may have heard of her, she's the singer, Lamiroir. She thought I'd died in the fire that killed Jove Justice, so she returned home. She was using a fake name in Khura'in because she was on the run from her family, so Dhurke and Datz and the rest couldn't track her down. She lost her memory after an accident and just recently got it back." He crosses his arms, puts his finger between his eyes in the familiar thinking pose. Nahyuta looks at the woman in the picture, tries to imagine her with Apollo's father, wearing thick Khura'inese clothing, cooking dinner, singing to their baby son.

"It makes sense, why they wouldn't tell me right away. But it's been two years, you would _think_ …" He closes his eyes. "My mother and sister. There's so much to learn about them, and…"

And that's when Nahyuta's stomach bottoms out, because although Apollo doesn't complete the sentence, he hears _and I'm here_. He had appealed to the very last of Apollo's familial ties, asked him on behalf of his adoptive father to stay, and now Apollo has biological family all the way across the sea and he's _here in Khura'in_ , away from them.

"If I may ask, Apollo," says Nahyuta, tentative. "Why did you return here?"

"Trucy said she's not speaking to Mr. Wright, although I imagine that might not last long," says Apollo. "He's done much more for her than her actual dad. Me, on the other hand…" He huffs. "I ran back here." He looks at the photograph again. "Trucy knows more about Thalassa than I do. Her biological father – well, deadbeat dad that he was, but he remembered her. Me? I know more about Lamiroir or Doris Justice than _Thalassa Gramarye_. I couldn't – I couldn't look her or Mr. Wright in the eye."

And then Apollo actually starts _crying_ , tears spilling inelegantly down his face, and – Nahyuta's no psychologist, doesn't have Athena Cykes's finely tuned ears or Simon Blackquill's suggestions, but he feels the anger and shame and sadness rolling off of his brother in waves, and what is he to do? What was it, Mr. Wright kept saying? _The worst of times are when lawyers have to fake their biggest smiles._ How bad can it be, if Apollo drops that creed now? Nahyuta tries to rationalize it in his head. Here, Apollo has work and purpose, and the advantage of being able to avoid Mr. Wright and Ms. Gramarye. There, Apollo has a sister and a mother he deserves to spend time with as a brother and a son, but the pain of being denied this knowledge for two years of trials and tribulations.

"Your fear and anger are justified," Nahyuta says, matter-of-factly. "But they're your family, Apollo, despite everything. You shouldn't avoid them forever, for Fate may decide to be cruel."

Apollo's sobs quiet down. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Yeah, of course you'd say that. Thank you, Nahyuta." There's another pause, and Nahyuta knows Apollo is thinking of how Nahyuta's parents could never reconcile, how his sister knew her father far too late. "I think I'd like to avoid them for a bit longer, though."

Nahyuta stands. "That is completely understandable. If you would like to have dinner at the palace today, I can have it arranged."

"No, that won't be necessary." Apollo looks at the photograph of his family, then back at him. "Thank you, Nahyuta. Thank you for dropping off the case files, as well."

"Of course." And because it feels lacking, he adds, "If you need anything else…"

Apollo cuts him off with a pained smile. "I don't think so. I'm fine. I'll be fine." He walks Nahyuta to the door. "Give Her Benevolence and Her Mercifulness my regards."

He finds himself staring up at the law office sign long after the door has closed behind him.

* * *

His sister has some choice words regarding the situation the next time he sees her. " _Braid Head!_ Would you care to explain why Barbed Head is attempting to contact me regarding Horn Head?" Rayfa asks disdainfully, holding out a cellular phone as if its very existence offends her. "Apparently, Horn Head is not answering his calls, and has apparently instructed Dog Head and Goggles Head to do the same, so he has decided to appeal to me. Why can these Americans not communicate and sort out their problems by themselves?"

"It is quite the cultural phenomenon," Nahyuta agrees, although he takes note of Apollo's response. _He's staying_ , he thinks, and feels only the slightest bit guilty for thinking it. "And I am afraid that particular failure of communication goes back quite a while, and has extremely longstanding repercussions."

Rayfa sniffs, her face reddening. "Surely it could not be so dire. I hope this will not affect Horn Head's work; he has been extremely productive in the months he has been here."

He looks at her, an idea coming to him slowly. "If I may ask, Rayfa," he says, slowly. "When Queen Ga'ran revealed your true heritage to you…what did it feel like?"

She looks taken aback by the question, her hand going to her face. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

Nahyuta crosses his arms. For a brief moment, he regrets asking – she is only fifteen, and the knowledge of their relation, although ingrained in his consciousness since her birth, is relatively new to her, but he presses on. "I hope that your reaction would give me some insight with how to help Apollo. As it turns out, he has a mother and half-sister in America, and has only recently found out about their relation."

"Horn Head has family in America?" Rayfa echoes. "Did Barbed Head know? Is that why he is refusing to speak to him?"

He nods. Her expression changes, understanding dawning.

She frowns, but he knows she's thinking deeply. She's learned to empathize with Apollo, in her own way. "I felt…immense betrayal," she confesses after some time. "If I had a choice, I would not have spoken to Queen Ga'ran, either. The revelation that the woman who raised me was not my birth mother, and that she kept it from me and the rest of the country to keep up a façade – what was I to do with that knowledge?" She regards him thoughtfully. "Dhurke and Queen Amara – I did not know them, not beyond what my tutors and Queen Ga'ran told me, and suddenly they were my father and mother. I could not reconcile what I knew – that one was a rebel, and one was dead – with what I was supposed to feel towards them so easily, not to mention that I learned not long after that Dhurke – _Father_ – was dead and Mother was alive."

"But it is possible," Nahyuta asks, soft and simple. It's not a question.

She hums. "It is. He must be given time to mourn what he has lost and space to reassess what he still has." She cocks her head to the side, the very picture of teenage innocence. "Have you even given yourself that, brother?"

* * *

There are lots of ways, he supposes, to accomplish what they need. They are lucky that a talk with Dhurke is just a summon away, although to the best of Nahyuta's knowledge, neither Apollo nor Rayfa has attempted to have Dhurke channeled, and Datz and Behleeb are only too happy to fill in what Amara does not know – Amara says, _his favorite color was blue_ ; Datz says, _he enjoyed reading Borginian poetry_ ; Behleeb says, _he loved chicken curry_. But this pilgrimage is something that needs to be accomplished, if only for Dhurke's own sake.

It had been easy to get Amara to agree to clear their schedules for the rest of the day, and although Rayfa complains about the travel up the mountainside, Nahyuta knows she appreciates the afternoon free of responsibilities. Apollo is quieter. He's sure Apollo recognizes the path, for all that fifteen years has changed it – there's not so much on this side of the mountain, after all; Dhurke would have never settled here otherwise.

His face falls when they reach the house. It hasn't changed much outwardly, with the same dark roof and blue paint, although the yard is overgrown and Nahyuta is sure there are thick layers of dust on everything inside. Rayfa is the least tentative of the three of them, easily walking towards the front door and testing the lock. She turns around. "This is where Father raised you and Horn Head, right?"

Nahyuta and Apollo are hanging back. He's sure that Apollo is reliving the same memories of playing tag in the garden and chasing each other up and down the riverside, of their father returning home with lamb or goat, turning it into delicious stew for dinner. "The property passed to me when Dhurke died," Nahyuta explains without looking at him. "He used it fairly often until the high priest's death, at which point he was often in the main city. I am afraid I have not been able to maintain it so well in recent months."

"I thought about this," Apollo blurts out. "When Dhurke – or, well, Maya channeling Dhurke – and I retrieved the Founder's Orb from Kurain Village. We had to climb a mountain, and work our way through a cave… it made me remember this house."

Datz steps down from the carriage. "Well, then, c'mon up, Yuty, AJ," he calls as he unlocks the door. "This place won't pack itself up."

Rayfa sneezes at the dust opening the door coughs up, but she steps inside with no hesitation, Nahyuta and Apollo trailing after her.

"Wow, it's practically the same," Apollo says, looking around. "Fifteen years, and everything's still where I remembered it to be."

"I didn't have the chance to come up here recently, either," says Nahyuta, wiping off a layer of dust with his finger and eyeing the dark spot on his hand distatefully. "But I concur." He spies a photograph of his parents by the altar – his mother, bright-eyed and beautiful, holding his father's hand, and resorts to turning around the living room. Datz is looking around the kitchen, while Apollo has disappeared into the bedroom they shared as children.

Rayfa's picked up a photograph of a baby with bright green eyes. "This is…you? Or me," she asks, her voice thick.

"You, most likely," says Nahyuta. "Father liked taking photos of you, and all photographs of me as a toddler were left in the royal palace when he went on the run." She's still staring at the photograph in awe, tracing her chubby baby cheeks with light fingers.

"Hey, Nahyuta, check this out," Apollo calls from one of the rooms, pulling out a chest and opening it. Inside are children's clothes of all sizes. Nahyuta recognizes the white Plumed Punisher shirt he'd been wearing in that damned photograph back at the office, and kneels on the floor to pick it up.

"This was mine."

"Dhurke kept everything," Apollo observes, gazing around the house. "All the clothes, souvenirs, memorabilia. I don't think he threw _anything_ away."

"He wasn't the type to," Datz says, suddenly appearing next to them holding a couple of canned sausages. "He always used to speak about bringing you guys here. He figured you'd want some of the stuff when you got older. He was a sentimental guy."

Nahyuta finds himself frowning. "Of course he was. He never stopped loving Mother, nor did he stop believing in me, not till the end." _And neither of us deserved that faith, not when we were subject to Ga'ran's every whim._ He doesn't notice his fist is clenching until he feels the half-moons in his palm that his fingernails have left behind.

Apollo glances at him thoughtfully, and Nahyuta finds himself cursing his brother's famed gifted eyes. "He understood why you acted the way you did," Apollo says softly.

"It's because of me," Rayfa chimes in, miserable. She's still clutching the photograph, sinking to the bedroom floor next to Nahyuta. "You and mother and father – all you wanted was to protect me, and I didn't even know."

"Don't ever think that way, Rayfa," Nahyuta snaps. Rayfa flinches, Apollo frowns, and he curses himself for it, curses this whole excursion, curses his inability to make his brother and sister _understand_. He rubs his temples with his fingers. "Father loved all of us more than life itself," he says, finally. "And perhaps we were not able to show him that same love while we were alive, through our own failings or through someone else's. But is there not a reason why we have been brought together, the three of us? To espouse his teachings and all that he stood for?"

"A dragon never yields, right?" It's the first time he's ever heard Rayfa say it, and her voice is small, but her eyes are determined, and his heart warms.

"Right," says Apollo. "The pursuit of truth and justice – the _whole_ truth, not just the convenient portions, as best as we can." His face is serious. Nahyuta remembers the photographs of him in the aftermath of State vs. Woods, all dark borrowed jacket and eyepatch, Dhurke written all over him. _Were you thinking of Father then, Apollo, when you tried to get to the bottom of that case?_

"To change Khura'in for the better," Rayfa adds. There's a small smile blooming on her face.

"Indeed," Nahyuta echoes. "To change…Khura'in."

They spend the afternoon sorting things into boxes – things to keep, things to leave in the house just in case, things to distribute amongst the Defiant Dragons. Datz promises to bring them to the rebels, and Nahyuta watches as the possessions in his childhood home disappear slowly into the carriage as the sun's rays grow longer.

"Weird, huh," Apollo says as Datz loads the last of the boxes into the carriage. Behind them, Rayfa is leaving some nahmanda flowers in a vase on the porch. "I always thought I'd come back to this place, but never like this."

Nahyuta lets himself think once more of Dhurke. "You play the hand you are dealt," he says, solemnly. "I think you were always meant to return here. Just as you were meant to reunite with your family someday." He looks at Apollo meaningfully. "Destiny is what we make it."

An absolutely beautiful smile blossoms across his brother's face, and Nahyuta thinks, for the first time since Apollo's return, that he's going to be fine.

* * *

"Polly!"

Nahyuta barely has time to turn around in the tight airport seat before Apollo's arms are full of girl. Trucy Wright pulls away from her brother and turns to him, her smile tightening imperceptibly. "Prosecutor Sahdmadhi."

"It's good to see you in the country legally," Apollo teases. He's always been brighter around his sister, even back in America, and Nahyuta wonders if learning about their relationship changed anything between them at all. Behind her, Phoenix Wright and Athena Cykes are pulling up with suitcases. Athena bounds over to him before engulfing him in a hug which he returns. She turns to him, frowning, before bowing hastily. "Prosecutor Sahdmadhi."

"Trucy kept trying to con the immigration officer," says Mr. Wright, exasperated. He looks at Apollo, hopeful. "Thanks for inviting us, Apollo, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi." There's an apology in his tone, an open question.

"Yeah, well." Apollo smiles at his mentor, accepting. "There's a lot to show." He looks behind him, his hopeful gaze darkening. "No Thalassa?"

Mr. Wright's brows furrow and he looks away. "She had to turn us down. Unfortunately, she has a big concert tonight."

Trucy stage-whispers, "Which Klavier told me she could have bailed on."

" _Trucy_." Mr. Wright's tone is reprimanding, and his daughter straightens instantly. But there's no missing Apollo's disappointed look, which Wright also notices. "It'll come in time, Apollo."

Apollo exhales. "Yeah. I hope so." Nahyuta echoes that hope inwardly – prays that someday, Apollo will be able to look Thalassa Gramarye in the eye as a son. Maybe then, Thalassa can tell him about his father and their life in Khura'in.

"We tried to give her ticket to Junie, but she's apparently head of the graduation committee back at Themis, so she turned me down because there's a lot of prep to be done, can't even take three days away." Athena Cykes is pouting. "She's graduating in a month, though, and she'll be a full-fledged judge in no time!"

Apollo's smiling wistfully. "She's still got a lot on her plate, huh. I'm sure she'll do great."

Trucy sidles up to him. "You've gotta come back, watch her administer cases, maybe even be the attorney in a few of them," she says slyly. "It would mean a lot."

Apollo gives her an affectionate smile, and Trucy Wright giggles. Inwardly, Nahyuta smiles. Clearly, blood relation has never mattered in the Wright Anything Agency, and Apollo will never stop being a part of this nebulous but nevertheless tightly-knit family and all its odd extensions – the Feys, their contacts at the prosecutor's office, their old friends. He and Rayfa may be a whole other question entirely - perhaps Rayfa may come to find a friend in Trucy, or Amara another son in Apollo - but Phoenix Wright's words echo – _it'll come in time_.

That's something they have lots of, now that Ga'ran no longer looms large, and Nahyuta has Apollo and Phoenix Wright to thank for that.

He straightens, properly speaking to them for the first time. "Shall we depart? The car taking us to the palace is arriving shortly, and I don't think you would want to keep Rayfa waiting."

Mr. Wright looks vaguely terrified. "No, of course not. Show us the way."

"We get to stay in the _palace_?" Athena says excitedly. "I'm starting to think I like you better when you're over here, Apollo!"

Apollo rolls his eyes obligingly. "That's really encouraging, Athena." He glances at Nahyuta before he continues. "Before we go there, though, I'd like to show you guys the new office. We've done quite a bit of fixing up recently."

Mr. Wright smiles big and wide and challenging, clapping Apollo on the shoulder. "Sounds like a plan. How 'bout you show us what you've got, huh?"

So they do just that.

* * *

 _ **this work's title is from**_ : _"the path that goes nowhere" by corinne roosevelt robinson_

 _ANYONE ELSE FEEL LIKE SOJ HAD TOO LITTLE EMOTIONAL CLOSURE? EVERYBODY PUT YO HANDS UP_

 _The game is really vague re: Thalassa, so for the purposes of this fic her affair and eventual marriage with Jove was part of a Teenage Rebellious Phase against Troupe Gramarye while they were touring, and so Thalassa was living in Khura'in under an assumed name ("Doris" was a Greek sea nymph, as Thalassa was the Greek primordial sea goddess). Jove would have known her real name, Dhurke co. would not have, so they wouldn't have been able to track her down in the succession crisis that ensued._

 _This was really supposed to be a fic about Nahyuta finding out about the events of Turnabout for Tomorrow (bc I was thinking about how, if you examine Dhurke's clothes, Athena snarks about him wearing an eyepatch) and being reminded of Dhurke, but then that conversation would not write itself so have some found family fic instead (this is not intended to hate on Phoenix btw, I'm sure he kept it out of respect for Thalassa's own decision which is also understandable considering her life was Currently A Mess, although I do question how he keeps a straight face in all of Apollo's I-have-no-mom monologues in DD and SOJ). I imagine her as ultimately a good person, but with no decent parental figures to look up to, so she's not sure how to be a good mom. Also, I keep thinking about Khura'in Krew and their dynamics – Apollo Nahyuta were raised as siblings, Nahyuta and Rayfa are actual siblings but Rayfa's just found out, meanwhile Rayfa and Apollo are just new bro hu dis, so ~*hijinks ensue*~_


End file.
